


She Mighty

by John_Clarke



Category: Predator Series, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Clarke/pseuds/John_Clarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunters become the Hunted, as the 'Predator' franchises crosses over into 'Star Trek: Voyager'. This a short piece for a niche audience, from an inexperienced writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Mighty

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Random_Crossover](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Random_Crossover) collection. 



> I'd appreciate any feedback the reader has to offer. 
> 
> I hope this is a good enough read for how short it is.
> 
> Peace and love.

 

The forest was dark, far too dark. Thin slivers of moonlight had managed to penetrate the dense collection of trees and bushes, here and there, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the forest floor. Branches and felled trunks littered the uneven ground and even the slightest misstep could send someone crashing down.

 

Veshyk couldn't afford that. His heart was pounding and his mind was racing. His legs were going as fast as possible and his muscles were burning in an unbearable way; it was as if all the blood bellow his torso had been replaced with a corrosive acid. With every other step he took, he felt himself getting slower and slower.

 

Soon enough his legs gave up completely. He crumbled.

 

Here he was, a proud and loyal servant of the Devore Imperium, fresh out of officer-training, crawling around in the dirt shrieking in pain and crying in fear. His pursuers were coming for him.

 

He slowly, but surely, pulled himself up to a nearby tree and slumped against it. He tried to catch his breath, regain his strength and clear up his thoughts. It didn't work. It couldn't work. Once his mind was free, for the briefest moment, from pain he was able to consider his situation. That only led him to terror and excitement. He started hyperventilating and he felt as if, at any second, his heart would explode inside his chest.

 

Against his better judgement, as if possessed by the spirit of some feral animal, he began to yell at the top of his lungs. “Gaharey bastards! Bastards! Do you hear me?! I'll kill you all! I'll kill you with my bare hands! Gaharey bastards!”

 

After that, the forest fell curiously silent. In his delirious state he thought he'd done it; he'd scared them off and saved himself. He began to smile and weep in joy. All too soon, however, he heard footsteps and the sound of branches snapping close by. His tears continued to stream but for a horrifyingly different reason.

 

Once one of his hunters came into view, an eight foot monster in blue armour, time slowed down. He was pulled to his feet but his mind lagged a few seconds behind. He blacked out briefly and his eyes flicked across from left to right far too quickly for him to take anything in. There was a group surrounding him now but he only knew that on an instinctual level, he felt their presence but could only see an incomprehensible collection of images; the hunters and the forest floor got all mixed up and rushing around in circles at an overwhelming speed.

 

He stumbled about and began being pushed back and forth. He lashed out and punched the figure closest to him. His arm was weak and, after connecting with a piece of armour he hissed in pain.

 

The end came quickly. Out of either pity or mercy one of the pack's members snapped his neck and his body went crumbling back down to the ground with a quiet thud.

 

…

 

The Hirogen, now gathered together and finished with their business, took off their helmets and began to talk. None of them were injured and the entire affair, tracking and killing about a dozen Devore soldiers, had lasted only a few hours. Otarr, the old and scarred Alpha, addressed his pack. “That was a good hunt. I'm satisfied.”

 

A few of the others looked at him with suspicious eyes, said nothing, and avoided eye contact when he returned their glares. Otarr challenged them. “Well? What is it? Will none of you speak up?!”

Yernik, the pack's Beta, answered him. “The youngsters are disappointed. They were expecting a fairer hunt... better prey.”

 

Otarr frowned and turned to the younger members, who still refused to meet his line-of-sight. “You're idiots! Any better prey and quite a few of you would be dead!”

 

They wanted to reply but none of them could. Otarr's reputation was legendary and protected him from criticism but it also bred resentment amongst his pack's latest additions. He scoffed and motioned them to put their helmets back on. Before any of them could, however, an explosion showered them in orange light. The sound was like a clap right behind their ears. They looked up to see fiery debris rain down a few kilometres east of their position.

 

Otarr managed to hide just how startled it had made him and began barking orders. “What was that? Yernik, signal the ship!” His chest was heaving up and down at a frantic pace but his armour concealed it.

 

Yernik replied. “There's no response... I don't think there's a ship _to_ signal.”

 

“Damn it!” Otarr's hands clenched into fists. “We need to investigate the crash site. We've got to figure out who's attacking us. It can't be the Devore, can it? You said you blocked this groups communication.”

 

Yernik responded almost instantly. “We don't know what kind of schedule they were operating on. They could have been ordered to make contact with their superiors on a regular basis.”

 

Otarr didn't like that answer but he couldn't argue with it. “Yes, that makes sense. Damn it! Let's move.”

 

The pack moved quickly and quietly. They navigated the forest's monstrous density with ease and without complaint. By the time they arrived at the primary crash site, their rifles were levelled and their senses put on high alert. They spread out, amongst the blazing rubble, constantly checking and rechecking their surroundings.

 

Otarr spoke first. “It might be hard to figure out what the ship was hit with. Can anyone get a reading? Look for radiation or unusual energy signatures.” A few members of the pack responded with grunts.

 

He held out his hand, skirting over a portion of the wreckage, hoping some ancient or instinctive feeling might guide his thoughts and give him some insight. Instead what he got, from out of nowhere, was a shuriken through his arm.

 

His utter shock hid the pain for a few seconds before he began to groan in pitiable terror. He flopped to the ground after his dismembered forearm and held it close in horror and confusion. He yelled for his pack. “Help!”

 

They had already began firing in the general direction of where the multi-bladed weapon had come from. They scored a lucky hit and what was previously empty space, above a massive tree branch hanging over the crash site, became a figure for a split second. They saw an alien, they'd never encountered before, jump away and rush off before engaging some kind of personal cloak.

 

The younger members gave chase, firing pot-shots at where the figure had been or where they expected it _to_ be. The others stayed behind to tend to their wounded captain.

…

 

She leapt and bounded away. With each step she took she moved further and further away from her prey. They couldn't keep up and, within minutes, she was completely free of them. She jumped up into a tree, hugging the trunk with one arm, and swung around to see her quarry. They were far off but, so long as she kept her head down and the crash site out of view, she could see four heat signatures amongst the deathly cold forest.

 

They slowed themselves to a halt and bickered before deciding to head back.

 

Once they were out of ear-shot, she dropped her cloak, jumped down from the tree and removed her mask. She looked down at her torso and saw that it was covered in blood. The wound wasn't deep but it _was_ messy. She cursed herself, inwardly, for her recklessness. She was young and full of it.

 

She unhooked her medi-kit from her belt and placed it on the ground. She knew this was going to hurt but she couldn't afford to botch the rest of her hunt. She knelt down, opened it up and took out the burner. She activated it, poured powder around the flame and covered it in solvent. The flame burst to life in an ultra-bright hue of blue and doubled in size before petering out.

 

She tensed up her gut and filled her spatula with the mixture before spreading it across her cut. It hurt like hell but she stifled her urge to cry out. After she'd injected herself with a stimulant, however, the pain became just a little too much to bear. She convulsed, violently, and let out a deafening shriek.

 

Hurriedly, she packed her things away and reattached the medi-kit to her belt.

 

…

 

The youngsters returned to the crash site to find their Alpha hunched over and sat on the ground hugging his forearm to his chest. He was looking off into the distance with a vacant look in his eyes. His Beta and the rest of the pack were gathered around him in a circle. Yernik ushered the youngsters in and began to question them. “Have you killed the creature that attacked us?”

 

One of the youngsters, the biggest of the four, answered with a head bowed in shame. “No. It was too difficult to pursue.” Another one chimed in. “It was invisible.”

 

At that, Otarr spoke up. “You're lucky to be be alive!”

 

The lead youngster shook his head and continued speaking to Yernik. “We wounded it. It was fleeing from us.”

 

Their Beta took this information in mind. He did some thinking and responded. “It may well come back to finish the job. We cannot assume it's gone for good. Can you tell me nothing else?”

 

“There was a pod, of some kind. It seemed only fit for one person; it was tall but thin and had landed only a few metres from the crash site.” The youngster point to its location but it couldn't really be seen through the fires raging around them.

 

Otarr piped up again, this time he was nearly shouting. “We need to get help! We need to send out a signal! We can't defeat it alone!”

 

The youngster scoffed at this and challenged his Alpha. “You useless, cowardly, old man!”

At this, Yernik belted the lad and knocked him to the ground. “You will show _respect_!”

 

The youngster glowered at Yernik but couldn't keep it up. He offered him a sign of surrender and apologised.

 

Yernik helped the man up to his feet and spoke his strategy. “Alright, here's the plan of attack. We wait here. There's no point trying to tracked down an invisible creature, even if it is wounded; we'd risk falling into an ambush. We have to assume it'll come back, since it can't possibly have achieved its objective by wounding only one of us.

 

When it attacks, we'll have very little defence initially, but as long as we're spread out well enough, we can respond with a barrage of rifle fire towards wherever it launches that initial strike. Are we clear?”

 

Otarr responded in a quiet and foreboding tone. “We should get help.”

 

Yernik simply repeated himself. “Are we _clear_?” Grunts of assent came from the rest of the pack and they began to spread themselves out, leaving their Alpha in his place.

 

…

 

She moved with single-minded focus. No mistakes were to be made, no mercy was to be shown. She was back to the crash site in no time at all. She leapt up onto the spot that was most familiar, the sturdy branch from atop which she'd cut off of one of her prey's arms.

 

She studied them, they were close to the biggest chunk of burning wreckage but not close enough that she could knock them all down at once. It was difficult to see them, since their heat signatures were engulfed by the fires dotted around the crash site.

 

She had to coax them out, somehow. She only had one trick up her sleeve. She threw her voice off into the distance and imitated the only noise she'd recorded them making.

 

…

 

Up, away from the crash site, towards where their attacker had first ran off, the pack heard Otarr scream. “Help!”

 

The youngsters ran off to meet the sound, as soon as it had been made, with their rifles levelled.

 

Yernik yelled after them. “No! Get back!”

 

It was too late. A spear flew through the air, ripped straight through the throat of the first, the gut of the second and the thigh of the third. Various voices shouted out in anger and pain. The unharmed youngster, along with the rest of the pack, began to let off shots at the spot the spear had come from but managed to hit nothing but air.

 

…

 

She felt exhilarated. She was up on another tree, further away from the camp site, watching the confusion she'd caused. She considered her next move.

 

…

The youngster finished his round of fire with a groan of frustration and disgust. His comrades were in various states of death and distress but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was a failure.

 

After a few moments spent in self-pity, he began to tend to his brothers. The first was dead, the second had to be put down and the third needed medical treatment that was light-years away.

 

Before he could decide what to do, however, a pair of serrated blades smashed through his back and out of his chest. His last seconds of life were spent in shock and despair firing into his own pack on instinct.

 

They fired back and blew his head off. Yernik continued firing, even after that, in the hopes of getting a lucky shot in but he was denied it yet again.

 

…

 

She'd nearly been caught by rifle fire but she'd strafed to one side, a few metres away. She wasted no time, however, as the three prey still fit to fight were close enough together to all be caught in a plasma blast.

 

She charged her caster up and let loose. They went down in a tremendous explosion.

 

She wandered off towards the only one with a head and torso still intact, pierced his neck with her blades and, with an almighty heave, tore his spine from his body. This was her first trophy...

 

She left the others to bleed to death or kill themselves.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had far too many ideas for my own good, got overexcited, and spent far too long trying to settle on the story I wanted to tell.
> 
> I'm a massive fan of 'Star Trek' and, to a lesser extent, 'Predator' but there may be some inaccuracies (though I tried to keep them to a minimum). A lot of the story elements are only augmented by my memory of these shows and only a small amount of recent research. I wish I'd have been able to settle on a concept earlier but 'if wishes were fishes' and so on.
> 
> Lastly, to save any confusion, here's the prompt I was attempting to respond to:
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> "The Predators, mighty hunters, ever searching for the ultimate pray. What if on their ongoing quest they came across …
> 
> … Star Trek. The Hirogen, the Borg, Jem’hadar or the Klingon (just to name a few) would make for a glorious hunt."


End file.
